


hole in my soul

by dreamyshadows



Category: From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Possessive Behavior, they're all fucked up so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 15:17:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4527039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamyshadows/pseuds/dreamyshadows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>it's time to make a decision, Kate thinks. Hell or Seth? </p><p>Far away in the desert, a coyote howls, the sound eerily similar to mocking laughter. There is no or; Seth is hell. Kate smiles at the realization and walks on into the deep. </p><p>For him, she'll take anything any day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hole in my soul

In the city of Hidalgo de Parral, they meet their next target.

Arguably a target; Kate just thinks he's a harmless old cook who leers at too many teenage girls, drinks too many warm beers, and provokes too many bar fights. All in all, an annoyance, but not a concern. The grouchy man next to her, however, doesn't agree. In his mind, all leerers are doomed to hell eventually, and even though he's a weakass when it comes to actually killing, he can try and rearrange their faces whenever he gets the chance.

Seth's knuckles crack menacingly at this proposition, and an almost boyish grin lights his face at the charming thought. They haven't had any action in days and a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do; so he tries to get up and hit the sorry ass guy in his sorry ass - but too late - there's a soft hand on his elbow, bringing him back down to the table with the alacrity of nun. There's a disappointed look in her eyes and its meandering its way to the soft bow of her mouth, making it turn downwards instead of up, which is not the way Seth likes it.

So he lets it go and shuts up, smiling a little when Katie-cakes' lips go back to dancing in the only way he would have 'em move.

\--

There’s a routine both of them fall into after being on the run for so long. No stopping for too long, no weeping for too long, and no sustained friendships. In this dry corner of the world, Seth takes it upon himself to care for Kate, and Kate takes it upon herself to become something more. 

What this more is, she doesn’t know. In Mexico, the younger women are more reserved than she had expected; their tangled rosaries an ode to confused minds, pursed lips refraining from any commentary, and hard chipped eyes demanding what this chica is doing here with a man old enough to be her father. 

She stays quiet at these silent inquiries, eyes not dropping low, but not hardening like theirs either. 

These welcomes are hostile at best, but Kate isn’t a violent girl. Even after fighting these creatures, these culebras, she doesn’t like the memory of slicing through them with chainsaws. She knows it’s necessary and she knows what it means to survive, but she doesn’t have to like it.

And she doesn’t.

\--

Seth, however, is far more ambivalent than she is. Kate’s concise, clear cut idea of disliking violence parallels his mixed emotions in an almost eerily beautiful way. The old him doesn’t want to believe in this symbolism shit, but the new him -- the version that’s seen monsters and also his brother -- forces him to look this new age stuff in the eye and then keep on lookin’. 

But it’s not the only thing he looks at, of course. 

Seth looks at Katie-cakes in all her innocent resilience, in her practiced detachment that she still can’t perfect, and the soft face that hides a hardened sorrow. When she fights, she’s beautiful. When she cries, it’s gut wrenching. For the life of him, Seth can’t figure out why this slip of a girl affects him so deeply. 

It’s an instinctive reaction he argues. Looking after Richie, looking after dad -- just looking after people in general. Now Seth’s stuck with a stubborn teenager who just staked her daddy and is wary of every move he makes.

She should be. Every time Kate takes a step towards him, her hips sway in a rhythm that’s a warning as much as it is an intoxication. Her body’s telling him what Seth already knows; look, keep looking -- but the moment you touch, everything will begin to burn. 

So he stays back, withdraws into himself, and keeps his hands right where he can see them. 

\--

The first question that pops up in Kate’s mind is always, why is it so dusty? Everywhere she walks, a trail of infinite particles kicks up behind her and stains her clothes. The very stench pervades her insides; it’s so omnipotent that the yellow haze soon becomes a very part of her. 

At first, she hates it. Thinks that the dust makes her smell like a decaying structure, makes her feel far older than her years. It’s a while before she realizes that she is older; not biologically -- even though Kate doesn’t understand what time means anymore, she knows that it’s only been a few months before life became different. No, she is older by the wisdom that she’s picked up from Mexican roads, from strip clubs, and from sitting alongside Seth Gecko for miles. 

Which is what she’s doing right now, funnily enough. Kate smirks internally, lips staying still because she knows that Seth watches her like a hawk. Even now, he has one eye on the road and one eye on her; almost like he expects her to fuck up somehow. She’s sitting in a car with nowhere to go, but he still has that half-exasperated, half-worried expression alight in his lenses.

She wants to hate it, she really does. But his gaze is like melted chocolate, and Kate has always had a weak spot for dessert.

\--

One day, Kate forgets to pray. 

She doesn’t even realize her folly -- she’s sitting in the car with her knees tucked under her, humming the tune of some Latino song she’d heard on the radio when Seth raps on her window. She rolls it down obediently, chocolate eyes waiting expectantly for what he has to say.

“No conversations with the Almighty today princess?”

Something must have shown on her face, Kate realizes. The slice of pain that goes through her heart isn’t merely internal -- it manifests itself physically as well. In a moment, she’s out of the car and into warm arms. 

Kate burrows into Seth’s embrace without questioning anything; this is something she has not just wanted, but something that she has needed for ages. Touch is welcome. Seth is welcome. 

Standing for hours in the relentless desert in his arms, Kate realizes that he smells faintly of dust as well. 

She smiles, and only holds him tighter. 

\--

Stop looking dammit. 

It’s the same old mantra that’s playing in his head. As usual, it serves no purpose. Well, it reminds him that he’s a Grade A asshole -- there’s a conscience in him somewhere, but he’s too far gone to care, and too far gone to heed any warning signs. 

So when Kate walks out of the shower dressed only in his shirt, Seth knows the end is near. There are too many things working against him here; it’s his shirt, it’s too short, and most importantly -- it’s her. 

Kate with her rosy body and leaden eyes wrapped in a too big shirt shakes him on so many levels. Her movements are a calling and before he knows it, Seth is up from the chair and onwards in his pursuit. The slight stiffening of her spine is the only indication that she’s felt him. His robber instincts allow him to notice the slightest change in posture – it’s the only way he sees the sudden shift in Kate. 

\--

For once in his life, Seth isn’t stealthy. He makes sure that Kate knows what’s going to happen; there are too many sins in his life already -- he would never add an unwilling woman to that list. 

Woman?

His conscience rears at the sudden label, but his steps refuse to falter. Yes, in his eyes, Kate is now a woman. There are no flowery reasons for his declaration; too many things have been undertaken by her, too many acts committed, too many decisions made that have removed any girlishness from her bones.

Seth hates it, but he also loves it. 

When he takes her -- and take her he will -- he will take a woman. From his vantage point, he sees Kate’s hands rise to her bust; within a second, the shirt falls to the floor. Unlike his approach, the drop is soundless. 

All of her porcelain body is revealed to him in less than a moment; all that warm glow emanating from her skin shines onto him, and for a moment, Seth is captivated. This is more than sex. This is more than the slaking of an age old hunger -- this is far more primitive, far more important. 

His hands find their way around her waist, fingers fitting jarringly on her hip. Seth holds her firmly, grip tightening when Kate tries to move away. There will be imprints on her body tomorrow, but these are marks of an urgency that he can’t control. 

Kate started this, but he’ll end it.

\--

There’s a fire somewhere deep within her body, igniting flames in places that border on aching. It’s a bittersweet pain -- one that both intensifies and lessens when Seth holds her. This act is a contradiction in itself.

And it’s only beginning.

Not for one moment does Kate want to stop. She doesn’t know if she can last this; he’s only touching her waist -- even though she is bare from neck to toe -- but she feels like she’s going to combust any minute.

“Touch me, please Seth, please just touch me.”

It’s both a demand and a plea rolled into one; that preacher’s daughter tone of voice that is begging for both sin and salvation. Little girl forced to become a woman too soon, too small to tolerate the pain that has rained down on her. But if she is now a woman, she decides how she’ll go to hell.

This is how she’ll go to hell.

\--

Self-control was always Richie’s thing. For Seth, losing control was almost as natural as his protective instinct. So at Katie-cakes’ innocent voice and vixen-like demand, he shatters. No other way would do it justice.

His reaction is primordial. When he turns Kate around and lifts her face to his, Seth wonders if this is how Adam felt when he saw Eve. Or rather, what he felt when he saw Lilith. In the way that Kate’s lips cling to his, the way her tongue entangles with his, the way her body presses against his, Seth sees something behind his closed lids. 

She pleads so beautifully; little mewls of please, oh please, please keep touching me, pervade his every sense. Soft hands with neat nails scratching down his clothed back, long legs winding around his waist, hot core rubbing directly over his erection. 

His lips find the soft beat of her pulse, teeth pulling the skin taut, marking the spot as his own. This passion is his. Seth hasn’t had much to call his own, but this -- Kate will always be his. What she’s already given him -- what she will give him -- this he will own for the rest of their lives. His head spins at the realizations, motions becoming more and more frenzied as the seconds tick by.

Her head tips back at his sensual onslaught, and from her eyes, Seth sees the haze of desire glazing those almost black lenses. He hasn’t seen her look more beautiful -- and when he thumbs the tips of her nipples, Kate lets out an almost keening sound. He repeats the motion, this time adding his tongue to the play. 

She jerks in his arms, fingers clenching in his hair as she tries to control her screams. 

He hates it. 

Lifting her up in a move that’s far less smooth than he wants, Seth walks over to the bed and lets her down gently on the mattress. It is in this moment that her inexperience lights up like neon lights in front of his head. 

Seth Gecko will never change. 

\--

Kate sees the very moment Seth begins to regret his decision. Months on the road with him, months sitting beside him have shown her to detect the signs. The way his eyes shutter gives him away always -- just as they’re doing now.

But she can’t take his back now. They’ve come too far to go back. Kate may be inexperienced, but the strength of her emotions won’t let her leave this night like she entered it. She wants to change. She wants to be a woman -- and she wants Seth to make her one. 

He turns around, and she spreads her legs. Only with a moment of hesitation, Kate’s fingers drift to her core. If he won’t do it, she will. 

And she won’t be quiet. There’s no daddy, there’s no Scott, and there’s no fabled morality hanging over her head like noose. There’s just her and there’s just Seth. 

At the first touch, she lets out a whine. Not as good as him, but good enough. She’ll manage; she’s done it for years before this Gecko came along and made her pant for him. 

But she gets only one touch before there’s a heavy presence in between her legs. Seth’s face is like dark magic above her, his fingers so much better as they drift down from her breasts to where she wants him so fucking badly. 

Yes, she wants to scream, touch me there. Oh god, please touch me there. 

And he does. But before he can stroke her to the place that’s oh so close, his touch is gone. Kate almost screams with frustration, but when his large hands lift her ass and pull her to the edge of the bed, she reigns in her anger for a few minutes. 

For good reason, she realizes just as Seth kneels down and settles his face in between her legs.

\--

She tastes like dust. Like Texas and Mexico and churches; she tastes like a preacher’s daughter should -- of salvation and retribution. But she also tastes like bottled frustration, like sin wrapped in ripped satin, like a woman. 

Seth can’t get enough. Can’t get enough of her taste, of her rising wails, of the twisting fingers in his hair. Can’t get enough of her stubbornness, of the way she looks out the window when he’s driving, of the way she looks when she smiles. His hands tighten on her thighs, and once again, he knows there will be marks. Good. Let her see them when she wakes up tomorrow, let her know that what he’s taken -- what she’s given him -- ties her to him for eternity. 

No one will take Kate from him. 

With his tongue, he writes his name on her clit; little licks here and there sending her reeling over the edge. Her cunt is velvet, and the way she’s pulsing beneath him, he knows she’s so close. Seth holds off a little, giving her enough but not so much that she can take what she wants so easily. Ultimately, he does help -- one exact move from his tongue sending her spiraling out of control. 

His name is on her lips the entire time, and for that, he’ll take blue balls any day.

\--

Just before falling asleep, Kate searches Seth’s face for some kind of change. It’s odd, but even without having sex, she feels like a different woman. It’s not the transformation of romance novels -- or maybe it is, who knows -- but a far more simple and concrete reality. 

Seth isn’t quite smiling, but he looks as if he enjoyed what they shared. Kate, of course, smiles. Whatever may happen tomorrow, she loves the expression on his face. And for that, she’ll take death any day.

\----

**Author's Note:**

> it's been a long time coming.


End file.
